When we’re around the age of five or so, the world is our playground and our dreams reach further than the sky. Though we run into standing objects and wail out, we smile and quickly forget because we are invincible.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“A doctor!” “A firefighter!” “President!”
At that tender age, we answered without hesitation and with enthusiasm. But now? Quite frankly, the world seems to be a playpen and my dreams only reach out as far as I can grab them.
“Esther, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Umm… that’s a fantastic question. I’ll get back to you on that.”
Today, I mentioned to my mom that I’m taking a French class next semester to expand my passion for languages. Before I even finished my sentence she said, “Why don’t you finish what you’re doing (nursing) first?”
Ah, the beauty of the never ending cycle of proclaiming my desires then being shut down by expectations.
“We just want you to do whatever makes you happy….But…” The “but” completely discrediting everything that came before it. The prior statement only psyching one up just to instantly crush them to pieces. Thanks mom and dad.
I would love to blame the immigrant mentality and say that’s the reason why I haven’t jumped. Truth is though, the act of stepping onto the ice without knowing whether it’ll crack makes every hair on my body stand up. If I make the choice to do that which “makes me happy,” then I’m the only one responsible. Who will I yell at furiously then?
Eighteen years old. Am I invincible still? Nope.
Went from indestructible to destructible.
Going into my second year of college and still don’t have a clue what I’m doing with my life. But it all turns out okay…right? Right? Can I get some confirmation? Anyone?…